


It Takes Two (Plus One)

by dracoqueen22



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: Implied poly relationship, Multi, early seasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:00:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28935177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: Chuck has no idea what he’s gotten himself into, and at this point, he’s too flustered to ask.
Relationships: Chuck Bartowski/John Casey, Chuck Bartowski/John Casey/Sarah Walker
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	1. It Takes Two

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote these like six or seven years ago and they've been lurking around my Tumblr ever since, and I thought maybe other people would like to read them, too. There are four connected oneshots. Enjoy!

“W-What are you doing?”  
  
The stammered question is the first thing past Chuck’s lips as Casey pulls away from him. The fact that his eyes widen and his cheeks darken into a full-blown blush is secondary.  
  
“It’s called a kiss, dumbass.” Casey looks back at him and chuffs.  
  
It’s not quite his sarcastic, I hate you, chuff. It’s a chuff Chuck isn’t sure he’s heard before, and he’s not sure he’s brave enough to label it... affectionate.  
  
“I _know_ what it is,” Chuck shoots back, a squirm in his belly that’s too much like embarrassment for his comfort. “I want to know why you’re doing it.”  
  
Casey’s lips curve in that devastating, taunting smirk he’s known to employ. “I know it’s been awhile, Chuck.” He always says Chuck’s name like it’s a statement. “But surely you know why one person wants to kiss another.”  
  
Stupid. He always feels so stupid around Casey.  
  
His fingers tangle together. “Yes, but you’re you, and I’m me, and--”  
  
Casey curves his hands around Chuck’s face, warm and calloused and a bit rough. Does he not know what lotion is?  
  
No. Secondary question. The primary question is... is…  
  
“--and you want to kiss me again, don’t you?” Chuck asks, swallowing thickly. His lips tingle, his heart pounding far too fast in his chest.  
  
He never knew Casey could be gentle.  
  
“Was planning on it, yeah,” Casey says, still with that half-smirk. “You got a problem with that?”  
  
“I... should?” Chuck says, and he laughs. Nervously. Like he always does.  
  
Casey chuckles in return, that dark, rolling rumble that Chuck’s never sure if it’s amusement or not. “But you don’t.”  
  
“B-but I... oh god...” Casey leans in close, close enough for the anticipation to set the tips of Chuck’s ears aflame. “... I don’t,” Chuck confirms.  
  
Casey exhales over his lips. Warm. Wet. And then he brushes their lips together, a softness Chuck never knew Casey could manage.  
  
He doesn’t moan, thank god, but it’s a near thing. His fingers curl. His heart throbs.  
  
Casey smells of gunpowder, aftershave, and beneath it all, nicotine. His lips are rough and chapped. Maybe he thinks Chapstick is as bad as lotion, who knows.  
  
Chuck shivers as the kiss firms. As Casey’s fingers tickle behind his ears.  
  
It’s weirdly sweet, and Chuck sighs into the kiss, only to startle as the tip of Casey’s tongue touches his lips.  
  
 _John_ , he thinks briefly. _If Casey’s going to kiss me, maybe I should start calling him by his name._  
  
He shapes the name at the back of his mind, and subconsciously, scurries away from it.  
  
 _Or maybe not._  
  
Casey chuckles. “You’re so skittish.”  
  
“I’m.. um... I’m sorry.” Chuck feels the heat in his cheeks all over again. Damn it.  
  
“Don’t be.” Casey cocks his head. “I kind of like it now.”  
  
He would.  
  
“Oh.” Chuck laughs, and knows it’s got that nervous edge to it. “But... w-what about Sarah? I mean we kinda have this thing going on, and I know it’s fake, but it’s also not and--”  
  
“Don’t worry about her,” Casey says and his lips curl into that half-grin, half-smirk. Chuck’s belly flip-flops. “She’ll join us soon enough.”  
  
Chuck’s knees wobble.  
  
Dear god, what kind of mess has Chuck gotten himself into now. Can he blame this on Bryce, too?  
  
Of course he can. And he’s going to.  
  
Just as soon as Casey’s done kissing him, which for his part, Chuck hopes isn’t any time soon.  
  


***


	2. It Takes Two (Plus One) Again

It isn’t _always_ sex.  
  
If John had been a man of many words, that is probably how he’d begin his defense of his relationship with Chuck and Sarah.  
  
It isn’t always sex. It isn’t just sex.  
  
Sometimes, it’s him and Chuck sharing a bed -- naked, yes -- skin to skin, with Chuck attached to him like a goofy limpet. He clings like he’s trying to crawl under John’s skin and hide there. They’re close enough John can feel his frantic heartbeat and smell his cheap strawberries and cream shampoo.  
  
Worry and grief have turned Chuck into a bundle of anxiety.  
  
Sarah is gone, for God only knows how long, and John’s the one holding the end of the line. Holding Chuck, patting his back, and saying nothing.  
  
Words, his words anyway, never really help.  
  
So.  
  
It isn’t always sex.  
  
Sometimes, it is just this.  
  
Two people in a bed, commiserating their grief and worry.  
  
And fuck the people who want to judge otherwise.  
  


***


	3. It Takes Two II

It shouldn’t come as a surprise, but John quickly finds that the best use for Chuck’s mouth is to have a dick stuffed into it. Preferably and particularly, John’s own.  
  
Kid doesn’t stop talking with a dick in his mouth, but at least the words are muffled and the vibrations carry nicely. Makes for a nice buzz as John strokes in and out, drool leaking from the corners of Chuck’s mouth, his face flushed bright pink, but when is it not honestly? Kid blushes anytime he sees bare skin, be it a man or a woman’s.  
  
He grips John’s thighs like he can’t decide if he wants it deeper or harder. Fortunately, John is happy enough to decide for him.  
  
Kid has a head full of hair, perfect for gripping. Perfect for sliding his fingers into, tangling into curls, and giving him non-verbal directions.  
  
Deeper is what John likes. And Chuck’s wordless buzz turns into a low moan. He exhales sharply through his nose, teeth briefly grazing John’s dick.  
  
“Ah, ah,” he says. “What did I say about your teeth?”  
  
The next noise is a muffled ‘sorry.’ John’s heard it enough he can pick it out every time.  
  
Jesus Christ, this kid’s mouth oughta be illegal.  
  
Ecstasy boils in John’s belly, rattles in his groin. He rolls deeper, and pulls Chuck harder, until the kid’s nose is buried in his wiry curls, and his hands turn to claws around John’s thighs. He makes a noise, but not that squeak of a cornered animal, more a whimper of ‘dear god, please give me more.’  
  
Well. Since you ask so politely. Happy to oblige.  
  
John drags in a heavy breath. “Down your throat or on your face, Chuck?” he asks, careful to punctuate the sharper syllables. He knows how much Chuck liked that.  
  
Chuck makes a muffled noise. John gives him enough space to catch a breath, spit shiny on the kid’s lips, on the lower half of John’s cock. One breath. Two breaths. And back down again. Swallowed deep. Until Chuck squirms and squirms and -- gah.  
  
John makes the choice for him. Chuck puts up a lot of talk, but when it comes down to it, he likes John taking charge.  
  
He pulls out, but not fast enough. One spurt coats Chuck’s tongue, gives him that taste he’s been working for all afternoon. Two and three paint Chuck’s face in strips of pale cream – the perfect kind of make up if you ask John. The fourth one stripes an eyebrow and catches in one loose curl.  
  
“I don’t know why you bother asking,” Chuck says, voice hoarse. He licks his lips, tongue flicking out to catch every last droplet of come.  
  
John laughs and uses his thumb to sweep up a drop of his spill from Chuck’s face. He paints Chuck’s bottom lip with it, grinning when Chuck licks it clean, briefly wetting John’s thumb.  
  
“Guess I am just that predicable,” John says. He keeps his other hand buried in Chuck’s unnaturally soft hair, so good for tugging. Like right now, urging the kid back toward his cock. “One more time.”  
  
Chuck rolls his eyes. “If you think you can, old man.”  
  
Smart ass. John doesn’t know where he’s gotten the balls, but he likes it.  
  
Hah.  
  
Probably borrowed ‘em from Sarah.  
  
She’s got more than enough pairs to spare.  
  


****


	4. It Takes Two (Plus One) And a Voyeur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter adds Anna as a voyeur to Chuck/Casey and Chuck/Sarah, though they are not aware she is watching, for those who may not be comfortable with such a situation, skip this piece.

They are like clockwork.  
  
Very sexy. Very hot. Very loud clockwork.  
  
Every Tuesday afternoon, after lunch, during Big Mike’s afternoon nap and Morgan’s second lunch/fourth snack. Anna used to wonder why she’s the only one who ever caught them.  
  
John’s glare is something fierce so she figures that’s it.  
  
And then she wonders: “what about Sarah?”  
  
Until two weeks later, Anna peers from behind a stack of unopened supply boxes and while Chuck is still draped over the desk, it’s ‘cause Sarah’s riding him like there’s no tomorrow.  
  
And that answers that.  
  
Statistically, however, the perpetrator is John more than Sarah. Anna figures that’s ‘cause he has the easier access. Doesn’t matter to Anna either way. A show is a show, and either have her hand shoved down her skirt, past her belt, heel rubbing hard over her clit.  
  
Today it is John, and boy is he hungry.  
  
He has Chuck bent over the rarely used Assistant Manager’s desk, Chuck’s face buried in a stack of old customer receipts that should’ve been shredded two years ago. One of John’s hands buries thick fingers in Chuck’s hair; the other pins Chuck’s hands to his back.  
  
John’s fucking him hard enough to rattle the desk, their bodies slapping together. There’ll be a bruise later, Anna’s sure of it. John seems the type to like leaving bruises, to smirk over them later, because it’ll make Chuck flush.  
  
Chuck does flush prettily, so Anna can’t blame him.  
  
John’s silent, save for some grunts and mutterings. Especially when he drapes himself across Chuck’s back and humps him, little snaps of his hips that must drive him deep.  
  
Chuck makes little “ah! ah! ah!” sounds, his hips grinding against the desk, his fingers twitching. His face is turned toward her, bright red, eyes squeezed shut but lips wet from John’s messy kisses.  
  
Anna always comes to these sounds, her juices soaking her panties, and her clit throbbing as she gnaws her tongue to keep quiet.  
  
While she tingles and fights her breathing, she enjoys the rest of the show.  
  
John always comes first. Always. Sometimes inside Chuck. Sometimes pulling out to paint Chuck’s bare ass and lower back with his spunk.  
  
He growls like a beast and ruts like one, but Chuck never seems to mind.  
  
Especially not when John jerks him up, spins him around, and exchanges favors. Usually with a hand job that has Chuck clutching at John’s shoulders and spilling helplessly with a few good pumps.  
Sometimes, though, John gets playful. Like today.  
  
He drops to his knees, wraps his mouth around Chuck’s dick, slides a hand between Chuck’s legs, and swallows Chuck to the root.  
  
Chuck sings, hips pumping, one fist in his mouth, the other clutching John’s shoulder. His eyes roll back. He staggers, kept upright only by John’s grip on his hips, and when he comes, it’s with a sexy little whine.  
  
Times like these, Anna kinda envies both Sarah and John. She’d never thought about what a good toy Chuck would make until these two came along. Now she’s kinda wishing she’d scooped him up first.  
Oh, well.  
  
Chuck comes and John grins around his dick, letting his hips jerk a few times before he pulls back and spits into a tissue. John never swallows. Such a waste. Though sometimes, he does climb back up Chuck’s body, grips his head, and kisses him. And Anna just knows he’s feeding Chuck back his own spunk.  
  
Damn, that’s hot.  
  
Afterward is the waiting, Anna ducking down to sit against the boxes, listening to them murmur to each other, softly laughing as John helps Chuck tidy up his clothes, and she toys with herself a bit more. Not to come, just to feel good. She licks her fingers clean and grins as she hears the door click shut when they leave.  
  
See you next week, gentlemen.  
  


****


End file.
